Wyatt mutters without looking up, “Blame Harper. She turned us into a daycare.”
Harper grins. “You love it.”
“Do I?” Wyatt asks dryly.
“Yes,” Harper says with complete confidence, and I can’t help it—I smile.
Because this is… normal.
We set a thick quilt on the floor near the fire, and Harper gently lowers Poppi onto it. I kneel and do the same with Aidan, my movements careful, reverent, like this is a fragile moment I don’t want to break.
The babies stare at each other.
Then Poppi reaches out and grabs Aidan’s sock.
Aidan blinks like he’s offended, then kicks once—hard.
Poppi squeals.
Aidan squeals back.
It’s like they’re speaking a language I don’t understand, but it’s adorable.
Harper lowers herself onto the floor beside them, smiling like this is her favorite thing in the world. I sit too, hugging my knees, watching Aidan’s tiny fingers explore the blanket while Poppi tries to eat hers.
“You look like you needed this,” Harper says softly, not looking at me—just speaking like she’s offering the words gently, leaving them there for me to pick up or ignore.
I swallow. “I didn’t realize how much.”
Harper glances at me then, eyes kind. “It’s okay to feel safe here.”
My throat tightens.
Because I want to. God, I want to so badly.
The men move around us in the background. Eli refills coffee. Boyd tosses another log on the fire. Chase pretends he’s not staring at the babies like they’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
Rhett walks past and pauses just long enough to adjust Poppi’s blanket so her little feet aren’t in the draft. Thorne kneels for a quick kiss to both baby’s foreheads.
And something inside me shifts again.
This is found family.
This is what Sophie would’ve wanted for Aidan—people who aren’t just “nice,” but steady. People who would show up at three in the morning. People who would hold the baby without flinching.
People who don’t leave.
Harper nudges my shoulder lightly. “So. How are you holding up? Really.”
I stare down at Aidan, at the way his hands pat the blanket like he’s claiming it, like he’s already decided this is his space.
My voice comes out quiet. “I don’t know how to have a life now. Sophie was… everything. She was the plan. And now the plan is gone.”
Harper’s expression softens. “When Poppi came to us, I felt that way too. Like the ground disappeared. Like every day was just… surviving.”
I look at her, surprised.
“And then,” Harper continues, “one day you wake up and realize you’re not just surviving anymore. You’re living. And you don’t feel guilty for smiling.”
